


Guilt'll Eat You Alive

by atimeforflores



Series: Stilish Prompts [6]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt, survivor's guilt, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atimeforflores/pseuds/atimeforflores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angsty Stilish Prompt: When Stiles is no longer possessed he realizes that he's hurt Deputy Parrish (the guy he has a total crush on) badly and put him in the hospital. Stiles is consumed by guilt and Parrish is left with scars and is pretty traumatized. Stiles wants absolution but Parrish is kind of wary of him so Stiles keeps trying (and failing) to keep his distance. The feelings/relationship could be one-sided depending on whether Parrish could ever get over what the Nogitsune did to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy trigger warning. This does contain a depiction of an attempted suicide, and in the later chapter a discussion of it. Please be safe.

Looking at the sleeping deputy in front of him, Stiles silently backed out of the hospital room, trying to keep himself together. His legs were burning to run, to get away, to forget all the horrors of his mind, but seeing the deputy, Parrish, laying so still, body wrapped in cast and gauze, something snapped inside of him.

The deputy’s eyes fluttered open, but Stiles had already taken off down the hall, leaving the deputy with a sense of calm circling him.

…

Walking through the cemetery, Stiles couldn’t help the shiver that was pulled through his body, trying to pull his jacket more tightly around his body. But, then again, Stiles felt like he deserved the cold around him, the hopelessness entrapping his body.

He stared at the row of graves before him; graves that weren’t there even three years previously. Guilt coiled Stiles’ heart, choking him.

He walked to the three newest graves, falling to his knees. He rested his forehead on the damp ground, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes. He fisted grass between his fingers, pulling it out, and screaming in frustration. Sobs were pulled from his body, his knuckles becoming bloody as he beat on the ground. He raked his nails down the stone of the graves, blood painting his hands.

He didn’t notice anyone behind him until the person was beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blue cast, and a brace on the person. He shakily let out of breath, willing the tears to stop.

"Don’t," he croaked, "I already blame myself more that anyone else does."When he stood to walk away, the man beside him flinched at the sudden move. Stiles could only clench his hands into fists and talk himself out of crashing his car three times on the way home.

…

Deputy Parrish used to be beautiful; he had these big, green eyes that Stiles would imagine waking up to every morning, this clever little smile and a confidence in his steps. Looking at him now, Stiles’ felt his chest clench, hatred burning towards himself. Clenching his hands, he spied on Parrish through the blinds, watching every painful flinch and movement the man had to go through.

"Why don’t you just go out there?" His father asked, looking up from the paperwork he had been doing.

Clenching his jaw, he exhaled through his nose, “What time does Parrish get off?”

His dad looked at him, disappointed, “Four.”

Stiles nodded, letting the blinds slip through his fingers, “When he leaves, i’ll go. Or if he goes to the bathroom or something i’ll run out.”

The Sheriff shook his head sadly.

When Parrish left to get his lunch from the breakroom, Stiles ran. He almost couldn’t convince himself to not pull out in front of an 18-wheeler.

…

"Have you been eating?" Lydia questioned him as they stood in the grocery store.

Stiles winced, not meeting her eyes when he shrugged. He couldn’t look at her, not now.

"Stiles!" she chastised, grabbing his arm in a steely grasp, long nails digging into his bicep. "You need to."

"I don’t feel like I need anything, anymore Lyds," He replied, whispering. He pulled out of her grip walking away, not being able to stand the look that was surely on her face.

…

The next time he saw Deputy Parrish, he was sitting on the side of Beacon Hills’ highest bridge.

"Stiles," The Deputy had said, inching forward.

"I’m sorry," Stiles had whispered closing his eyes.

He let his body fall forward.

…

Stiles laid in his cold hospital bed, never aware of the young deputy holding his hand and awaiting for him to wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: OMG, thank you so much for writing my angsty Stilish prompt! I loved it, it was great! :D and I would be thrilled if you write the sequel you mentioned :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of suicide and its effects in this chapter. 
> 
> WARNING; i wrote this a few months ago after my friend committed suicide, and was very angry. I wouldn't say i exactly support the views that Parrish has in this chapter, so be warned that some material may not sit well with you.

Kyle Parrish had no idea how his life has gotten to his point. He honestly could say that he had no recollection of deciding that it would be a good idea sitting next to the Sheriff’s underage son and holding his hand while he slept. Although, he could say that he did not regret it.

Kyle Parrish had many regrets in his life; not repairing his relationship with his parents after he got discharged, not telling his friends how much they meant to him, and now not fixing his relationship with the young boy before him.

He didn’t hate the boy, nor did he blame him. The flinches and avoidance were merely a knee jerk reaction. He couldn’t face loud noises for over a year when he returned from the war, let alone handle flashing lights. He logically knew that women (or men) who have suffered trauma, such as rape, shied away from anything remotely resembling their attacker, even when they knew that they would not be hurt. And maybe that was a lot like he had been acting. He knew Stiles would never purposely hurt him, or anyone for that matter, but when he remembered those cold, dark brown eyes that had stared at him while sliding the knife in his abdomen, he couldn’t help but feel the need to run.

He knew he couldn’t blame himself; it was simply illogical. He could not dictate another person’s free will, no matter how different he wanted the outcome. He had realized years ago, that no matter of praying could undo a decision. No number of sleepless nights could bring back a life, and he knew he had to accept that.

Something he learned while in the military was that people were not infinite, and that he was not a hero.

…

The boy would wake up in small increments, eyes blinking, and fingers twitching before falling back into oblivion. When he finally, fully, woke up, the first thing that he did was carefully remove the breathing tube that was shoved down his throat, desperately trying to keep his intake steady.

He tried to sit up, but gasped when he felt a sharp pain in his rib, falling against the bed.

"I wouldn’t do that." Kyle said, looking up from his phone. Stiles had dark bags around his eyes, and dried tears caking his face.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles croaked, looking towards the young deputy. He was truly the most beautiful person Stiles had ever seen, even in ratty old sweats and obviously not showered.

Kyle ignored him, slipping the phone into his pocket.

"Did i ever tell you how i got discharge from the army?" He asked finally, after minutes had passed.

"No," Stiles answered, brown eyes staring at him earnestly.

Kyle nodded, fiddling with his fingers. “Scott was here,” he whispered, looking Stiles dead in the eye, “He shared a story with me.”

Stiles looked away, thinking he already knew which story Kyle was referring to.

"He said to me, Deputy Parrish, Stiles saved me. He saved me from myself, yet here he is, laying in the hospital bed." Kyle said standing up, pushing himself physically away from the bed. "And yet, here you are, laying in the hospital bed."

Stiles gulped, opening his mouth.

"NO!" Kyle shouted, kicking the plastic chair he had gotten up from, "Do not speak! Oh my god, I am so angry with you at this moment. I cannot even fathom how you could have made such a moronism and selfish decision!"

"Kyle," Stiles whimpered, tears spilling down his face.

"Stop, just stop." Kyle demanded, glaring down at him. "What were you thinking? Don’t answer that, i will; you weren’t thinking! Because, if you were, you would know not to be so stupid!" Kyle continued, pulling at his hair with his hands. "I thought you were dead, Stiles. I honest to God thought you were dead. You felt so cold and weren’t breathing. Oh my god, i panicked, i didn’t know what to do."

Stiles looked away, “How was my decision selfish? I just wanted to stop causing people pain.”

Kyle wanted to scream, instead throwing a vase of flowers at the wall. “How was it selfish? Genim Andrzej Stilinski, your father just got you back, and you were willing to throw that away? You were willing to leave Scott without a brother, Melissa without a son? You were willing to make your friends have hundreds of sleepless nights, screaming into their pillows? You were willing for them to wonder if there was anything they could have done, to blame themselves? You wanted them to cry for hours, to sob and fall to the floor. When they heard, what would they do? Fall to the ground and scream? Have a panic attack? Break. They would break. Oh my god, Stiles, how did you not realize how important you are. Can you imagine it? The first time in years your father would have to wear a suit would be to your funeral. Instead of walking Lydia down the isle on her wedding day, she’d walk with your coffin to the graveyard, the only isle she could share with you. Can you see it, yet? Scott would still be holding onto your coffin when they told him to lower it into the ground. He would be sobbing, asking you to come back. He would hold on to the sides, desperately trying to keep you out of the ground. He’d stop eating, stop playing sports. His grades would decrease, and he would eventually do something stupid, just like you. Maybe crash his car, maybe get drunk, who knows. They’d be at graduation, and there would be a space in one of the chairs, empty and everyone would know who was supposed to be sitting there. Their yearbook would come out, and a whole page would have your face on it. But that not enough, it would never be enough. It wouldn’t stop hurting, it wouldn’t become bearable, because you know whoever says that is so full of bullshit.”

Stiles was sobbing now, curling up on his side.

"And do you know what the worst part is, Stiles? Its that I’d never get the chance to see you walk towards me down the isle."

…

On Lydia’s wedding day, he gave her away, kissing her on the cheek, and letting a tear slide down his cheek.

On Scott’s wedding day, he was the best man, toasting his brother.

On his own, he stared at the man who had saved his life, who had made it worth living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask box is ALWAYS open.
> 
> deputycuffmeanytime.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Ask box is always open.
> 
> deputycuffmeanytime.tumblr.com


End file.
